


The One He Trusts

by inkworldtraveler



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood and Violence, F/M, Flashbacks to Homelander's past, Homelander backstory, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It gets dark, Mild Sexual Content, Mild Smut, Not Canon Compliant, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, Reader-Insert, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27607657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkworldtraveler/pseuds/inkworldtraveler
Summary: You're an intern at Vought when you're offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove yourself. But after a fateful encounter with America's greatest hero at Vought's Christmas party you suddenly find yourself in the center of attention of several powerful players, not least Homelander himself. A circumstance that could get you killed if you don't watch out.
Relationships: Homelander/Reader, The Homelander | John/Madelyn Stillwell, The Homelander | John/Original Female Character(s), The Homelander | John/You
Comments: 22
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

"Your script is good the way it is," Madelyn Stillwell, the vice-president of Vought International, said, deliberately placing a hand on Homelander's knee. He froze at her touch, staring down as her fingers wandered up his thigh, touching him only ever so slightly. He let it happen for a few seconds but then squirmed free of her touch, standing up to pace back and forth in her office. Normally he would've liked the attention but he was too pissed off at her at the moment. 

"Well, _I_ hate it, if that's of any relevance to you," he said, churned up. 

She watched him calmly, giving him a sympathetic smile. 

"I know you don't like it. But it's the right thing to say right now to fit your brand." She stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks, and gently stroked his cheek. 

"You always have to be good. You're supposed to be a devout, decent American boy. You can’t just say 'goddamn' in front of the cameras. That cost you almost five percentage points of approval in the advertising-relevant group of conservative Christians. Recalling your childhood memories of a traditional Christmas with your family in front of a room full of influential people is the perfect opportunity to win them back. Trust me."

Homelander huffed quietly, but he felt his anger evaporate a bit. Madelyn had this effect on him. He closed his eyes, snuggling his cheek into the palm of her hand. 

"How would it make you feel if you had to give a speech about made-up memories of parents you've never met and presents you never actually got and all that fake fucking bullshit?" he asked, looking Madelyn straight in the eye. Most people would've looked away, but Madelyn stayed perfectly composed, as always. He never knew how to feel about this.

"I would hate it," she replied, drawing her hand back from his face. "But you have to do this for me, okay?" 

He sighed, waving her off. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, don't worry."

She smiled brightly, striding over to her work desk. "Oh and do you have five more minutes? I would like to introduce someone to you. A new intern. She'll take over your social media presence from Cheryl. She's really exceptionally good at it, you'll like her!"

Homelander groaned internally. He didn't want to meet some new intern. He barely remembered Cheryl, even though she'd managed his social media for almost two years now. He was so sick of dealing with these humans who grovelled before him, sucking up to him while their weak, pathetic little hearts fluttered like frightened birds in their chests. 

"Well, let's get over and done with it then," he said, giving Madelyn a well-rehearsed bright smile. 

✴ 

You waited on the corridor outside Miss Stillwell's office, nervously bouncing up and down on your feet. The walls were adorned with larger-than-life portraits of The Seven and you found yourself in front of Homelander's portrait time and again. You just couldn’t believe you'd be meeting this man today. You'd seen him from afar a couple of times since you'd started working for Vought as a social media intern, but the thought of facing him directly made you nauseous with anxiety. 

When the door to Miss Stillwell's office finally opened, revealing the vice-president herself, it almost made you jump with fright.

"Miss (l/n)! Come in. We're so excited for this!" 

She held the door open for you and you rubbed your sweaty palms against your jeans in what you hoped was a low-key way while your heart was beating so fast it felt like it was almost exploding. Oh God, Homelander could probably hear your heartbeat, right? He'd instantly know how nervous you were. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And there he was, facing away from you and staring out the window overlooking the New York skyline, hands clasped behind his back in his signature pose. 

"Homelander, this is (y/n)," Madelyn Stillwell said while Homelander turned around in what felt like dreadful slow-motion to you. His blue eyes took you in for the fraction of a second, a benign but indifferent smile on his classically handsome face. He strode over to you and you had to fight the urge to just run. 

"Good to meet you, (y/n)," Homelander said, holding out his gloved hand to you. You mechanically reached up to shake it. He seemed a little exasperated at how starstruck you were. Embarrassing.

"(y/n) has handled Translucent's social media with remarkable success for the last three months," Miss Stillwell explained. "He gained five points in popularity." 

Homelander raised his eyebrows in mock surprise. "Well, then you _really_ have to be good." You saw Stillwell shoot him an admonitory look, but he ignored her and tilted his head slightly, taking a closer look at you. It was unnerving. This man had been the world's greatest superhero since you'd been a child, when he’d been introduced to The Seven at only twenty years old. "I am very much looking forward to our cooperation," he said and it was clear that you were dismissed. 

"Me too, sir. Thank you very much!"

Stillwell gave you an encouraging smile, thanking you for making time and when you were heading back down to your office on one of the lower floors, you wondered what the hell had made you agree to this madness. 

✴

On the evening of the 24. December, Vought was hosting their annual Christmas charity gala at the Vought tower. All of The Seven were there and you as an employee were too, for the first time. It's been a week since you'd taken over Homelander's social media presence and so far everything was going well. No major catastrophes had happened, no one had tried to obliterate you. 

You felt slightly uncomfortable, wearing a classic black cocktail dress instead of your usual jeans and t-shirt and fiddled with a glass of champagne while listening to speeches by Mr Edgar, Vought's president, Miss Stillwell and some other people you didn't know. The Seven mingled with the crowd, making small talk to politicians and business people and celebrities and you found yourself unconsciously trailing Homelander, who was strolling around with Queen Maeve on his arm. They looked stunning together. 

Later in the evening, when Jingle Bell Rock was playing for what felt like the tenth time, you excused yourself, taking two glass cups of punch off a waiter's tray on your way to the balcony. You needed more alcohol to survive this evening. The cold winter night made you shiver in your spaghetti strap dress but the fresh air was a blessing. You downed the first punch and your head felt pleasantly fuzzy. There was a _lot_ of alcohol in there.

"Ah, (y/n), right?" a smooth voice in your back said, making you whirl around. Homelander stood about five meters away from you, hands behind his back, his face half covered in shadows on the dimly lit terrace. For some reason you expected his eyes to glow red at any moment, but obviously it didn't happen.

"Holy shit," you said, before you could stop yourself. He chuckled softly, striding over and leaning against the glass railing next to you.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, taking in the two glasses of punch. 

"I guess I fled from Jingle Bell Rock," you replied, instantly wanting to slap yourself, but Homelander laughed. "Well, that's understandable."

He looked out over the lights of the city and even in your mildly drunk state you couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be in a bad mood. His jaw was clenched and his lips pressed into a firm line. 

"Do you want some punch?" you asked, indicating the untouched glass. 

He squinted at you in an unreadable expression for a few seconds, but then took the glass, sipping its contents warily. He scrunched up his face a little, which looked impossibly handsome on him, and you remembered that people had told you that Homelander was supposed to neither drink nor smoke, ever. 

"Aren't you celebrating Christmas Eve with your family?" he asked without looking at you. It was bizarre that you were out here, drinking punch, having a conversation with Homelander of all people. 

"Well, I don't have any family here in New York and I'm an atheist, so… I don’t really care, I suppose." _God, why were you telling him this? He was basically the figurehead of Christian America!_

But he just snorted and even seemed to be a little amused at your answer. You could feel his eyes on you, taking in your bare shoulders and back neckline. Heat crept up your neck, even though it was starting to get freezing cold. 

"Want to go back inside?" he asked, offering his arm to you. You took it gratefully, hyperaware of the warmth radiating from his body and the way people looked at you when you stepped back inside. "Can I persuade you to dance?" he spun you around effortlessly, placing one hand on the small of your back. He wasn‘t wearing his gloves and you could feel his fingers resting lightly on your skin. 

"The way you handled the takeover was amazing," he said with this Hollywood smile you'd seen on TV and on the internet and in the newspapers a million times. It was only now though, that you saw him up close, that you noticed how remarkably sharp his canine teeth looked. It made his smile look like he could’ve eaten you with hair and bones any minute if he wanted to.

✴

Madelyn Stillwell watched intrigued and with deep interest as Homelander came back with the intern girl on his arm. They were the center of attention, seemingly unaware of the whisper they caused, slow-dancing and talking to each other in quiet voices. This was unusual, and very interesting indeed. 

"Megan?" she said to one of her assistants. "I want you to find out everything there is to know about (y/n)."

✴

_Eighteen years earlier_

John was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when Dr Vogelbaum entered the room. 

"Good morning, John," the doctor said, the security door system locking itself behind him. John sat up eagerly, unable to conceal his agitation. He was eighteen years old and today was Christmas Day. 

"Good morning Dr Vogelbaum," he said politely, as was expected of him. 

"How are you feeling today?" Vogelbaum asked, studying him with his usual neutral expression. John could sense though that the old man was not as calm as he pretended to be. Vogelbaum wasn't scared of him, like most other people were, but he was perturbed. 

"Good. Why?" John asked defiantly, letting his polite tone slip a bit. This would probably have consequences for him later, but recently he found it hard to hide his frustration. 

"You killed Dr Evans, John. I thought you were getting on quite well? What happened?"

John shrugged. "I lost control. I didn't mean to hit her."

Vogelbaum didn't say anything for a moment. "You haven't lost control over your laser vision in years, John."

The young man looked up, narrowing his eyes at the doctor as if challenging him to accuse him of lying.

"So I'm not getting anything for Christmas then?" John asked, a fractious undertone in his voice. It concerned Vogelbaum a great deal. The boy was more worried about having failed a test and not getting a reward than the fact that he'd ended a human's life. And what was worse, he'd done it very deliberately and was now lying about it, testing how far he could go and what he could get away with. He was eighteen now and Vought was getting impatient. They wanted their new showpiece product in The Seven.

"You can have this. But only until tomorrow," the doctor produced a DVD from the inside pocket of his lab coat and John snatched it out of his hand eagerly, his blue eyes glowing a faint red for a second in a feverish excitement. They'd have to work on this still.

"Is this _The Empire Strikes Back_?" he asked, turning the bare DVD case in his hands.

"Yes. It's the one you wanted."

"Wait!" John said when Vogelbaum turned to leave. "You've promised to take me outside again." 

"Soon," Vogelbaum said. 

✴

It was half past twelve when the evening finally drew to a close. Your feet hurt like hell from walking around in stilettos for hours and you could’ve fallen asleep on the spot. You still mulled over the strangeness that had been this evening. People have been giving you looks of ill-concealed curiosity since your spectacular entrance on Homelander's arm, which made you very uncomfortable. 

"Leaving already?" A soft voice brushed against your ear, so close it made a wave of goosebumps prickle down the back of your neck. Spinning around, you found yourself almost bumping into Homelander's chest. You had no idea where he'd suddenly come from. Had he been watching you? Why did he bother talking to you at all?

There was a slight, pleased smile on his face as he said in a conspiratorial whisper: "It seems like we've managed to cause quite the stir tonight." 

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to…," you stuttered, unable to form a coherent sentence. 

"Don't worry," he laughed. "Those uptight old shareholder bastards and Mr fucking Edgar need something to puzzle over every now and then. Madelyn will be so pissed off." 

The way he said it made it sound like that was a good thing but while it probably wouldn’t bother him whether he'd irritated his bosses, it could very well cost you your job.

You could only stare at him for a few seconds. You would've never expected America's patron saint to be of the sweary and provocative kind. It took you a moment to realize that he was _tipsy_.

"Can I give you a lift somewhere?" he asked with one of these perfectly nice yet somehow predatory smiles, holding out his hand for you to take. 

"Oh… Don't trouble yourself on my account," you said quickly, because this whole situation gave you major anxiety. _Why_ did he do this? 

"It's no trouble at all." He didn't retract his outstretched hand and it was obvious that he wasn't used to people disobeying him, judging by the slight frown on his face. Warily, you put your hand in his because there really wasn't another option. He was wearing his gloves again, the red leather cool against your skin as his fingers closed around yours.

"Come on. You'll like this." Homelander led you away from the elevators and out a glass door down the hallway to a balcony, and when it dawned on you where this was leading, your stomach almost did a somersault. 

"Oh no… oh God," you whispered, the abyss of the street canyon gaping at you only a few meters away.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty good at this," he winked at you, wrapping one arm around your waist and the next thing you knew was that you were soaring up, icy cold wind whipping in your face and you clung to Homelander with every last scrap of strength in your body. 

What normally took you twenty minutes on the subway was over in a matter of seconds. Homelander touched down with a thud on the small balcony of your flat, his arm still firmly around your waist. 

"You did it," he said with a smile, steadying you by your shoulders as you were still swaying a bit. "Most people throw up after the first time."

You just nodded, because you weren’t sure if you wouldn’t throw up after all if you opened your mouth now.

"You know where I live," you managed to say after a moment. 

"Well, (y/n), I have my resources. It comes with certain benefits to be me."

He looked around curiously, taking in the surrounding buildings and the fairy lights on the railing of the balcony. You lived in an apartment complex owned by Vought offering official lodgings for employees. It was probably really not that hard to find out where you lived when one had Homelander's security clearance. 

"It's nice here," he said, as you opened the French window leading from the balcony to the living room and turned on the lights inside. It was a small but nice newly built flat but for some reason you felt embarrassed. The Seven had their penthouse apartments on the 99th floor of Vought tower, so your flat probably looked pathetic to him.

"Thank you for taking me home, sir," you said, awkwardly standing in the middle of your living room.

"Homelander will do," he said genially. 

"I'll be off then. You know, crime never sleeps." Within the fraction of a second he'd pushed off the ground, shooting upwards into the night and out of sight with a deafening noise like thunder erupting right next to you. You hurried back outside, searching the sky but there was no trace left of Homelander.


	2. Chapter 2

When you woke up the next morning you stayed in bed for a few more minutes, recollecting the events of last night. You didn't know what to make of any of it. For a second, you allowed yourself to dwell on the idea of Homelander taking an interest in you. Thinking about it alone was a little embarrassing. Surely he had only wanted to be nice. You tried to work out if _you_ had a thing for _him_. He was obviously attractive and charming but he was also this almost God-like entity, so you'd never quite thought about if you found the _man_ Homelander appealing. By no stretch of your imagination could you picture him in casual clothes or watching TV on the sofa or doing anything normal, really. 

You ate some cornflakes for breakfast, scrolling through your Twitter feed. Apparently, there'd been a plane crash last night in the early hours of the morning. The private jet of a senator had disappeared off the radar on its way from New York to D.C. The man's photo seemed vaguely familiar to you. God, he'd been at the gala yesterday, hadn't he? Plane crashes always spooked you. The thought of being completely helpless, thousands of kilometers in the air and with no way to escape was the most terrifying thing you could think of. Homelander could’ve probably saved these people if he'd been there. You closed your eyes, recalling the feeling of flying, his arm securely holding you against his chest. It had been a good feeling after all. 

✴

"Madelyn, to what do I owe the honor of being summoned to your office at this early hour?" Homelander asked sardonically, giving Madelyn a kiss on the cheek. Her fingers slid into his hair and he gave a low moan of contentment, drawing closer to her. 

"You've been very good yesterday," she said in a soft voice, while he buried his face into the crook of her neck.

"Everyone loved you for talking so fondly of your parents and childhood memories."

He untangled himself from her. "But?"

She leaned against her desk, studying him with a smile. "Have you heard about the plane crash last night? I only talked to the senator yesterday. It's really tragic."

"Uh, yeah," he said, blinking at her somewhat taken aback. "Tragic."

"It's a remarkable coincidence that this happened yesterday of all days, just hours after I had a meeting with him, don't you think?" 

"Cut the bullshit, Madelyn," Homelander said, irritated. "Say what you want to say!"

Madelyn sighed. "Your brand is... hope, baseball, America. You can’t just go and crash a plane just because you dislike a man. Street justice is not your way."

He took a step towards her, his temper rising. "Madelyn, this guy was trying to blackmail you! I could hear him through the walls up to 99th! I've done this for you!" His voice was somewhere between a snarl and a whine. He couldn't believe that she was chiding him for this.

"I know, and I'm flattered by your concern," she replied in a soothing voice, cupping his cheek in her hand. "But in order for me to be able to protect you, you have to stop playing a lone hand." 

He turned away from her, grinding his teeth in frustration. 

"So all I'm good for is smiling and being good-looking and rattling off your scripts?"

"No! No, of course not," Madelyn said calmingly. "You already do so much. You shouldn't have to worry about company politics on top of that."

He turned around to her, advancing on her somewhat menacingly. "Was that all you wanted to see me for, then? To chastise me?"

He sensed Madelyn's discomfort. Good. She stood her ground though and didn't back away from him.

"You seem to be getting on very well with your new digital marketing director."

Homelander narrowed his eyes at Madelyn. He didn't want to talk to her about you. You were none of her business. 

"Well, that's what you wanted, right?" he asked in a light voice. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm very happy you like her!"

"Great," he patted her on the shoulder in the least affectionate way he could manage. "I have to go now. You know, incredibly important Vought stuff is demanding my attention, like helping a fucking grandma over the street and going to the premiere of A-Train's godawful movie."

✴

When you took a seat in one of the chairs in front of Madelyn Stillwell's desk, you had no idea that you'd already been a topic of discussion here today. You squirmed nervously, clasping and unclasping your hands in your lap. 

"Miss Stillwell, if this is about last night: I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to…"

Stillwell stopped you mid-sentence with a gesture of her hand.

"I'm sorry, (y/n), I shouldn't have summoned you here without letting you know why. You're not in trouble. Actually, we're pretty impressed and positively surprised at how well you and Homelander seem to be getting along."

"Oh… thank you," you said, taken aback. You felt a little bit like a fraud, because you hadn't actually done anything to deserve that compliment. 

"Actually," Stillwell said and it seemed like she was tense behind the facade of professional kindness. "We would be delighted if you'd follow up on your good start."

You frowned. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"We think it would do Homelander good to have a… uh… confidant. I'm sure you can imagine that he's under a lot of pressure and public interest at all times, which can be… confusing for him sometimes.”

You had genuinely no idea what exactly she was asking of you. She couldn’t possibly mean that you should hook up with Homelander for stress relief? 

"We'd be thrilled if you could provide us with information about his emotional state or if there's something he's dissatisfied with or anything worth knowing, really. You see, we obviously act in his best interest here and we want to get even better at supporting our heroes as good as possible. Of course we would show you our gratitude, financially."

"So you want me to… _spy on Homelander?_ " It sounded almost too ridiculous to say out loud. Madelyn Stillwell's smile remained genial but her eyes showed nothing of that warmth. "I wouldn’t put it that way. But Mr Edgar himself expressed very clearly his wish to be informed about what's on Homelander's mind."

There was a queasy feeling spreading in your stomach at the mere thought of trying to worm your way into Homelander's confidence. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can’t do this," you said, avoiding to look Stillwell straight in the eye. 

She sighed and it was obvious that she was losing her patience. "(y/n), I may have misphrased it. See, you either agree to our offer or we will unfortunately not be able to continue your employment with Vought at all."

Now you looked her in the eye after all. "You can’t just fire me, I did nothing wrong!" 

Stillwell leaned forward on her desk, interlacing her fingers. "You have so much more potential, (y/n). It's uncommon for Homelander to show any interest in an employee at all, so you should feel honored. He's Vought's most valuable asset and we do all in our power to protect him. Why don't you just give it a go? I've arranged a meeting for the both of you today at five to discuss your social media strategy. Why don't you get to know each other a little better before you make a hasty decision?"

When the girl was gone, Madelyn Stillwell pinched the bridge of her nose. This whole situation was giving her a headache. But who knew? When the girl was still alive by the end of the week she might actually be a tool for them to get their greatest hero under control again. 

✴

On your way back down to your office you felt like sleepwalking. The vice-president of Vought had just blackmailed you into snooping on _fucking Homelander_. You were equally furious and in shock. You should’ve just quit your job right there in front of her, but then, you _needed_ that job and you were ambitious too. That didn’t mean you were suicidal, though. The mere thought of you trying to coax anything out of Homelander was madness. Maybe his interest in you had been a one-off and he'd already forgotten about your existence. You entered your office in a state of absent-mindedness and therefore it took you a few seconds to notice that it was unusually quiet in here. No chatter or banter from your colleagues, no rattle from the coffee machine or the radio playing. You looked around in confusion and it was only then that you noticed that there was already someone sitting in your chair. _Oh fuck. It was him._

Homelander was leaning back in your chair, his cape flung over one armrest, and he studied you with his head slightly tilted, twiddling your Darth Vader lego figure between his gloved fingers. “I’m concerned to see that you’re rooting for the villains, (y/n),” he said, giving the lego figure an amused look and putting it back on your desk. He stood up, taking a step towards you and you had to tilt your head back a little to look at him because he was at least taller by a head.

“Has Madelyn informed you about the meeting she’s planned over our heads?” he asked and you felt the eyes of every single person in the room on you.

“Um… yeah,” you stuttered. “She told me to meet you at five in her office.”

“Yeah, well, I thought we might just disrupt Madelyn’s and Edgar’s plans a little,” he said, lowering his voice. “Keep them guessing.”

You were sure that all of your colleagues were listening harder than they’d ever listened in their lives before.

“O-Okay,” was all you could manage to reply. Homelander gave you an approving clap on the shoulder. “Why don’t you just visit me on 99th at, say… eight?”

You nodded mechanically, not able to look away from the hypnotic stare of his blue eyes. 

Turning to your colleagues, he said: “I’m sorry for having kept you from work. And remember, you guys are doing the real work here.” He was met with ‘Thank-yous’ and sounds of awe and appreciation from all sides and when he was gone you were bombarded with questions about if you’d been promoted and what the deal with you and Homelander was and by the time you left your office at around seven you felt like you should just bolt and never come back. You didn’t even know why you were so afraid of the thought of spending time alone with Homelander. His reputation was flawless, he was always friendly and approachable towards employees and the public loved him. But there was something unpredictable and unsettling about being at the center of his attention that just sent a shiver down your spine. What probably worried you the most was that the possibility of him being interested in you was not as outlandish a thought anymore as it had been only yesterday. The other, no less disturbing option was that he already knew that you were put onto him and God knew how he'd react to that.

Shortly before eight o'clock you took the elevator up to the 99th floor, your heart beating wildly in your chest. When the doors slid open, they revealed a spacious area dominated by a huge statue of the Seven. Some employees were hurrying past without paying attention to you and you cast about some clue where to go as you'd never been up here before. You decided to follow the general direction most people were going, when a snappy voice stopped you in your tracks. 

"Excuse me, Miss? Do you have clearance to be up here?" A manager-looking woman in a pantsuit approached you, high heels clattering on the marble floor and a look on her face as if you were a stain of dirt on the tiles. 

"Well, no...," you said, put off your stride. "I'm supposed to meet Homelander here."

The woman huffed quietly, raising her eyebrows in obvious doubt. "And you are who, exactly?" 

"Miranda, is there a problem here?" a familiar voice said, making an expression of alarm flit over the woman's face for the fraction of a second before it was replaced by a fake, bright smile.

"Homelander, sir, no problem at all. This girl says she has an appointment with you?"

"That's right. (y/n) and I have some social media things to discuss." 

Miranda nodded with an overly-friendly expression, giving your arm a squeeze as if you were old friends. "Yeah, of course! I won't keep you any longer!" 

She hurried off, leaving you behind alone with Homelander. 

"First time on 99th?" he asked, indicating you to follow and you fell into step beside him.

"Yeah, this is the first time," you replied, marvelling at your surroundings. "It feels a little unreal, to be honest."

He chuckled. "Not bad, huh?"

"So, is the bat cave on this floor as well?" you asked, because this situation was already so damn weird, you might as well act as your normal self now.

"See, that's what I like about you," Homelander said with a laugh. "You say what you think. It's… captivating."

He unlocked a door by holding his palm to a scanning panel and you entered a wide area with a window facade presenting the most spectacular view over New York City you'd ever seen. Flatscreens were mounted to the walls and the center of the room was taken up by a large arched conference table with seven chairs. 

"Wow," you said breathlessly. 

Homelander walked up to the glass front, clasping his hands behind his back and you stepped next to him, looking outside at the twinkling lights of the city. 

"I hope Madelyn hasn't talked you into something. She can be a little imperious sometimes." 

"No, no, she was very supportive!" you said, the lie sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. 

"Hm," Homelander turned to you, lifting your chin up slightly with the tip of his finger so that you looked him directly in the eyes. 

"You are an intriguing little lady." His voice was low and soft and his face was only inches from yours. 

"You know what, (y/n)? I think we don't need to discuss social media. To be honest, I'm not very instagram-savvy or whatever and I'm sure you will handle this perfectly well without my help."

Bowing down slightly, he kissed the corner of your mouth, making your skin prickle with fearful anticipation. _Oh fuck, this was actually happening._

"Do you want this?" he murmured against your ear while his hands wandered slowly up your sides. You nodded with a shaky breath because yes, you _actually_ wanted this. He pulled you closer, kissing you more forcefully. Your hands slid into his hair and he made a low growl of pleasure in the back of his throat. Lifting you up as if you weighed nothing he set you down on top of the conference table, brushing your hair out of your face and you found yourself drowning in these blue eyes that were equally beautiful and terrifying. 

✴

Later that night you were marvelling at the crazy, irreversible turn your life had taken today. 

"Do you like this?" you asked in a quiet voice, playing gently with Homelander's hair. His eyes fluttered open, blinking up at you lazily from where his head was resting in your lap. "Nah," he said with a smirk, snuggling his face against your stomach. It was almost easy to pretend that he was just a normal guy at this moment. Without the suit he looked so different, leaner and less ripped, with disheveled hair and the trace of a five o'clock shadow on his jaw. You wondered what he would be like if he wasn't a supe. 

You stayed like this for a while when he said: "You wouldn’t lie to me, right?" He fixed his gaze on you and all drowsiness was gone from his face. 

"No, of course not."

He reached up to stroke your cheek. "Good. It would be a pity for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone 👋 I really hope you enjoyed this! 😊 Comments and kudos are very much appreciated ❤


	3. Chapter 3

_Eighteen years earlier_

They woke him up early in the morning. Today they'd fly to New York City to meet with some officials from Vought and discuss his future career in the Seven. John had started to think of himself as _Homelander_ more and more lately and he was growing impatient to finally be able to walk free in the outside world. A part of him was feeling anxious and even a little scared of being away from Dr Vogelbaum and everything he knew for the first time in his life, but obviously he didn't let anyone know about this. 

It was still dark when they arrived at the small airport where a private jet waited for them.   
"Remember what we talked about, John," Dr Vogelbaum said with his usual pensive face. John sighed and he had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Dr Vogelbaum."  
"Well, be off then, you don't want to be late."

The doctor turned away to exchange some words with Helena, John’s new chaperone that had replaced Dr Evans, and it gave him a small pang that Vogelbaum had just ditched him without wishing him luck or a single encouraging word. He wouldn’t have admitted it to himself, but a tiny part of him always longed for the smallest bit of affection or appreciation from Vogelbaum, even though he almost never got it. 

The small plane was furnished with comfortable leather seats, a minibar and television screens but he barely paid attention to it when he climbed in after Helena. John had been on planes before but the thought of being trapped in this fragile tin box made him feel queasy. He'd much rather have flown to New York by himself and like many times before he played with the thought of just flying away and being free and doing whatever he wanted. It was not like they could do anything to stop him. They were ants and he was a God.   
During the flight they let him watch TV and eat crisps and salty peanuts from the minibar and he knew he was only allowed to do so because they didn't want to talk to him, but he didn't complain. His eyes were glued to the TV watching _Raiders Of The Lost Ark_ , which he'd seen at least ten times because he desperately wanted to be like Harrison Ford.   
When they reached New York sometime around noon they were met by a delegation of official looking people who accompanied them to Vought tower. All the way there, John marvelled at the skyscrapers and cars and people outside. He'd never seen _so many people_ before. At Vought tower the president, Mr Edgar, and a whole lot of high-level employees were already waiting for them and they studied John with unconcealed interest. 

"John, this is Miss Stillwell, she works in hero management," Helena introduced a blonde woman who was maybe in her late twenties or early thirties.   
"You can call me Madelyn," the woman said with a friendly smile, shaking John's hand. "We're thrilled to finally meet you."   
He could only stare at her. She was so _different_ from the plain women in lab coats who usually attended to him.   
Madelyn gave him a tour of the 99th floor and then they talked with a group of marketing people about the team of superheroes they wanted to build around him. The attention and adulation he was getting gave John a feeling of power that he really enjoyed. He could also barely take his eyes off Madelyn which was an entirely new experience for him as well.

"Tell me about him," Stan Edgar asked Helena, watching John over a surveillance camera in his room where the young man was sitting cross-legged on the bed, reading.   
"Well, he's very clever, a quick learner. A little defiant sometimes and stubborn as a mule. He likes adventure movies and _Nirvana_." Helena laughed but Mr Edgar remained quiet and expressionless.   
"I've heard there were some incidents."  
Helena looked uneasy for a second. "Well, yeah… he has shown some… mental and behavioural disorders. But we're working on it. He will be ready to be a Vought hero by the time you need him."  
Mr Edgar nodded pensively. 

While they were talking John listened closely from his room a few floors below. He didn't like the way Helena was talking about him. He'd get rid of her when they were back home. They'd replace her quickly enough. They always did.

✴

“It will do you good to get out for the weekend,” Madelyn said from behind her desk. “I know you’ve been unhappy lately but I’m sure you will feel better after blowing off some steam.” She got up and came over to where Homelander was sitting on her sofa, settling down next to him so that their legs were touching slightly. “Oh my sweet boy,” she said, huddling against his chest and Homelander couldn’t help but enjoy Madelyn’s attention. He’d craved it ever since he’d been a teenager and he still did now. After all, she’d been his first crush, first sex, first love, first everything. Therefore he let her slide her hand between his legs now without opposition, even though he wasn’t in the mood for it. She noticed his lack of response and withdrew her hand, giving him a sympathetic look. “What do you think about coming round my place tonight before you leave? We could order in and make ourselves at home,” she murmured against his ear. He turned towards her with a smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’d love to. But I’m afraid I’m already occupied tonight.”

The upset was well hidden behind her mask of nonchalant friendliness but Homelander knew her well enough to see through it. He wanted to get back at her for not giving him enough attention lately. She had no right to ignore him, he was supposed to be her priority at all times. And he knew there was something she wasn’t telling him and he _hated_ lies.

“Anyway! I’ll be off then,” he said lightly, getting up and kissing her curtly on the forehead. “See you next week.”

✴

"I think he's frustrated and bored by his duties. He feels like he's being restricted," you said quietly, staring down at your shoes. It's been three weeks since you had first reported to Stillwell and you still felt nauseous every time you were summoned to her office. It usually happened on days when it was certain that Homelander was somewhere else, on a team mission or at a movie premiere or a talk show on live television. Your management of his social media accounts was going well and you'd successfully won back the popularity points he'd lost. Apart from a few visits at your apartment - and some quick making out sessions in empty offices - you hadn't seen much of him lately and you didn't know if you should be happy or sad about this. You obviously hadn't told Stillwell about the night you'd spent in Homelander's bed or the times he’d kissed you since and you wondered whether she somehow still knew about it. Everything concerning your new special task was strictly confidential, so you hadn’t been able to talk to any of your friends or colleagues about what was going on between you and Homelander. And to be honest, you didn’t even know how to label what exactly was going on between the two of you. 

You were dismissed after you'd made your report and on your way home you were in a nasty mood. Back in your flat you dropped your backpack on the floor and kicked off your shoes. You were just rummaging around the fridge for something to eat when a familiar thud from outside made your head snap up. A knock on the balcony door confirmed your assumption: Homelander was standing outside the glass door, waving at you casually. It still sent a rush of adrenaline through your body every time you came face to face with him. You had no idea if he knew about your deal with Stillwell and was just playing along for some reason or if he had genuinely no clue.

"I hope I'm not intruding?" He smirked as you opened the door, bowing down to kiss you on the neck. His lips wandered from your ear down to your collarbone, making a tingle spread in your stomach.   
"No, of course not," you replied. "Come in."  
He followed you inside where his eyes seemed to take in every single detail of your living room.   
"Are you hungry?" you asked after a moment of awkward silence. "I was just going to make myself some dinner." He looked a bit nonplussed and you wondered whether what you'd said had been presumptuous.   
"Uh… yeah, why not," he said after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed so completely out of place here in your living room.   
"Is frozen pizza okay for you?" you asked hesitantly, cause your fridge was basically empty and your cooking skills were awful.  
"Sure," he said with a smile. "The guys from marketing would probably throw a fit cause we're _technically_ not allowed to eat fast food but fuck them." He rolled his eyes, slumping down on your sofa.   
"Really?" you asked, dumbfounded. "I didn't think you had to worry about... I don't know… such mundane problems." He laughed. "You have no idea. It honestly sucks to have to watch what you eat _all the time_ . You let things slide _once_ and TMZ will slam you."  
"Wow, that sucks," you said earnestly. You hadn't really thought about how the Seven were not only superheroes but also _celebrities_.   
“Uh… could you put the pizza in the oven while I change quickly?” you asked, handing him a shrink-wrapped pizza from the freezer. A little frown wrinkled his forehead but he nodded, taking the pizza as if it was an unidentified object.

When you’d disappeared into your bedroom, Homelander gave the oven a wary look. He’d never operated an oven in his life, let alone made his own food, so after a moment of cluelessness he just fixed his stare on the pizza and lasered it until it was ready. He was pretty pleased with himself when he saw the puzzled look on your face.   
“Wow, that was… fast,” you said and the both of you settled down on your sofa, eating in comfortable silence.

“This is really nice right now,” he said after a moment and pulled you over to him so you were sitting on his lap and you took his face in your hands, kissing him slowly. Being with him was actually really nice, he was always tender and gentle with you even though he could’ve probably broken you in half like a dry twig if he didn’t watch out, which was a little unsettling. You slid your hand down to his crotch and you felt his pulse jump. He moaned quietly and his body shuddered beneath you, hands sliding under your t-shirt. Nuzzling his face against your neck he said in a low voice: “I’ll be out of town for the weekend.” You sat back, studying him with a little frown. “Okay. Is this a top secret mission or something?”   
He chuckled. “Yup. Can’t tell you about it.” He slid out from under you and got up and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. “I’ll be back on Monday,” he said and there was a slightly distant look on his face. He kissed you goodbye and a moment later he was gone, leaving you behind flustered and confused.


	4. Chapter 4

You spent the weekend mulling over the strange visit Homelander had paid you on Friday. Lately, you found sleep elusive, so you had a lot of time to think about the situation you’d maneuvered yourself into. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything would blow up in your face eventually. On Saturday evening, you texted your friend Rooney who worked in hero management because you thought that maybe talking to her over some drinks would help you figure out what to do.

You were sitting at the counter of your regular bar, when Rooney addressed the unspoken-of elephant in the room.

“Homelander’s social media manager, huh?” she asked with a grin, sipping her daiquiri. You laughed nervously, fidgeting in your seat. “Yeah. It’s great!”

Rooney looked at you with raised eyebrows. “ _Well…_? What’s he like?”

“Wait, _you_ work in hero management,” you deflected. You felt like the shittiest friend ever because the true reason you’d wanted to meet up with her tonight was to get some information.

“Well, yeah, but not for the _Seven_ ,” Rooney said with a snort. “I take care of the PR disasters of b-list celebrity heroes.”

She gave you a pointed look. “ _So?_ Homelander. Don’t even think about getting away here today without telling me about the Christmas party affair.” 

“The _what_?”

She raised her hands in defense, smirking. “Hey! That’s what everyone’s calling it.”

You groaned. “I just accidentally met him on the balcony and he asked me to dance. I could’ve hardly refused!”

“Hey, I’m just messing with you,” Rooney laughed, giving you a playful punch in the shoulder. “I sure as hell wouldn’t have refused either.”

You took a long sip of your cocktail before you asked: “Homelander mentioned that he’d be out of town for the weekend. Do you have an idea what’s that about?”

Rooney frowned slightly and sipped her drink again with a pensive expression, which made you think that maybe you were on to something here.

“All of the higher-ranking supes are out of town,” she said eventually. 

“And do you know why?” you asked, barely containing your agitation. After thinking about it over and over again you had come to the conclusion that information was power and if you wanted to get out of this situation unscathed you needed to know what was going on. It was just a matter of time that Homelander found out that you were put onto him and something told you he would not take it well. Something also told you that Stillwell would readily throw you under the bus if it came down to it.

“You know,” Rooney said hesitantly. “Supes have their own… special needs. And Vought is very keen on keeping them in check.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She sighed. “You’re my friend, (y/n). But… just leave it, okay? I would get into real trouble if I told you.”

✴

The only thing that had come out of your meetup with Rooney was that you were even more stressed now, if that was possible. By four a.m. you were still wide awake and unable to find sleep, so you got up to make yourself a cup of tea. You sat down cross-legged on the sofa, a feeling of unease gnawing at you that made it impossible to sit still. A prickle ran down your spine as if someone was watching you and you shuddered, throwing an uneasy glance over your shoulder. Your gaze met what looked like two burning embers in the night outside your balcony doors. You shot up from where you were sitting, all air leaving your lungs. There was a pair of glowing red eyes staring at you from the dark and you felt a wave of dread wash over you. _How long had he been there outside, watching you?_ You shrank back, the rush of blood in your ears drowning out everything. Homelander's eyes started to glow a fiercer red and in the fraction of a second a burst of his laser vision shattered the balcony door to smoldering pieces in an explosion of glass and concrete. You were paralyzed with fear as he entered through the gaping hole, the terrifying gaze of these deadly eyes fixed on you as he approached. Some small part of your brain that wasn't freaking out noticed that he was swaying slightly as he walked. You were standing with your back pressed against the wall and now that he was standing right in front of you you could see the red glow in his eyes fading away to their normal blue color but his pupils were _huge_.

"(y/n)...," Homelander said in a throaty voice, taking your face in his hands and leaning his forehead against yours. He was breathing shakily and you remained frozen where you stood, your heart thumping like crazy. He snivelled, burying his face into your chest and you realized that he was _crying_. 

"Are you… okay?" you managed to say, your words barely more than a whisper. He moved away slightly, putting one gloved hand on the side of your neck with his thumb resting directly on your windpipe, applying slight pressure. 

"Promise me that you’re not lying to me," he said in a voice that was somewhere between a growl and a whimper. 

"I promise," you lied. 

He exhaled, his anger seemingly deflating, and he let go of you. He laughed shakily, a small sob escaping his throat. "Life's crazy, huh?" he asked and you had no idea what he was talking about. What you knew was that one wrong word or move now would probably spell the end for you.

Moving towards him in slow-motion so as not to startle him into lasering you in half, you asked: "Do you want to sit down?" 

He blinked at you through red-rimmed eyes but eventually nodded, sitting down next to you on the sofa. All of his movements were oddly slow and cautious and you were almost sure now that he was completely high. He lay down, putting his head in your lap and you started gently stroking his hair as you knew this was something he liked and your life depended on him staying calm now. You had no idea why, but he was in a state. There were some dried stains on the front of his suit that might've been blood or vomit, his hair was messy and his whole body was trembling violently. 

After a few minutes of silence he rolled onto his back to look up at you. He seemed to be on the verge of falling asleep. 

"Do you like me?" he asked in a slurred voice.

"Of course I do," you replied, soothingly running your fingers through his blond hair. "Everyone loves you."

"That's not what I mean. They only love this... _idea_ of me. But no one really likes me."

He scrunched up his face and tears welled up in his eyes. "They turned me into a monster," he whispered, a sob catching in his throat. You let him snivel into your t-shirt until his breathing eventually flattened out and you already thought he'd fallen asleep when he said: "It's John."

"What?"

"My name."

You didn't dare to move for at least twenty minutes after you were sure he had passed out and when you finally did move you were terrified of waking him up again. Sliding out from under his head as gingerly as possible you tiptoed over to where your phone was charging, keeping your eyes glued to Homelander's unmoving silhouette.

"Fuck, (y/n), do you know how late it is?" Rooney said when she picked up.

"I'm sorry," you said in an urgent whisper and now tears started to burn in your eyes after all. "You have to tell me what's going on with the supes this weekend. Please, I swear I won't tell anyone. _Please_."

Your voice was trembling and the line stayed silent for a long moment but then Rooney said: "What is this? Is something wrong?" 

"I can’t… explain now. But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important." It was hard to keep your voice down while you tried hard to choke back hot tears. Everything was crashing down on you now. You had been _this close_ to dying tonight.

You could hear that Rooney was hesitating. "You mustn't tell anyone about this, okay?" she said in a tense whisper. "This is some messed up business, (y/n). There are… drives boiling in the supes' bodies that are basically intensified by their superhuman powers. Vought is fully aware of the danger this holds and therefore organizes a kind of… _party_ once a year. They whip their heroes up with drugs on these days so that they forget their duties and responsibilities in a kind of collective frenzy. The supes are completely isolated during this phase, so they can do whatever they want without the public knowing about it."

You were lost for words for a moment. " _Oh fuck…_ ," you whispered. 

"Listen," Rooney said, an irritated edge to her voice. "You can’t tell anyone about this, okay? If Vought finds out that I told you this, I'm screwed."

You didn't sleep a wink that night, but sat at your kitchen table, watching Homelander sleep and listening to his slow, even breathing. Your head was buzzing with what you'd learned. Vought was drugging their showpiece heroes into a frenzy to keep them in check. Which meant that these heroes weren’t as flawless and impeccable as they painted them for the public. You couldn’t help but wonder _what_ exactly superhuman beings did when they spun out of control for Vought to lock them up in some high-security, sealed off area. So the menacing vibes you’d gotten from Homelander hadn’t been a product of your imagination. And the even more glaring question was why he was sleeping on your sofa at this very moment when he was supposed to be locked up somewhere. 

It was already early afternoon when a rustle of movement made you jump up from where you’d been sitting on your bed and rush back to the living room. Homelander was standing in the middle of the room, blinking at you through bleary eyes. You noted with concern that his pupils were still wider than usual but at least he seemed calmer than yesterday.

“Hey,” you said, trying a smile. “Uh… I have picked out some fresh clothes… if you want to take a shower. They belong to my brother. He always leaves some spare clothes at my flat because he sometimes stays overnight. I think they should fit you…” _God, why were you blabbering to him about your brother?_ Homelander took in the pile of clothes with an expression as if he would’ve liked to burn it to the ground but after a moment he picked it up after all. “Thank you.” His voice sounded strained and raspy and like he had a massive hangover. He passed you without a word and you automatically flinched from him before you could stop yourself. _Idiot! You fucking idiot!_ He gave you a sharp look and the irritation radiating off of him made you break out in cold sweat. You heaved a sigh of relief when the bathroom door fell shut behind him but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he kept watching you through the wall.

The quick glance Homelander caught of himself in the bathroom mirror made his stomach churn with self-loathing. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot, his hair was slightly greasy and there was stubble on his jaw which he _hated_. He should’ve never let you see him like this. What probably bothered him even more was that he barely remembered anything that had happened during the last day and he couldn’t bear the feeling of not being in control. There were only disjointed shreds left of last night’s events and the vague memory of removing his tracking chip. He gingerly touched his shoulder where he’d cut into his flesh to draw out the small device but the skin was already healed. The cocktail of drugs was still in his system, he could tell that much, cause he was feeling so agitated and horny it was hard to focus on anything apart from the fact that you were right outside for him to take. But he knew that in his current state he would snap you like dry firewood, so instead he stripped out of his suit and stepped into the shower, washing off the grime and sweat and God knew what else. He ran the tips of his fingers over his hardened nipples, making himself wince and sending a violent shiver through his body. Everything was too-loud, too-intense, overstimulated. He could hear the traffic noise down on the street as loud as if he was right next to it and he could smell the disgusting, overwhelming stench of the city. It reminded him of back when they’d tested all kinds of substances on him at the lab to see if he could take it. He dried himself off with a towel that felt like sandpaper on his oversensitive skin and forced himself to take a look at his reflection in the mirror. He hated to see himself like this. He was slim and decently toned but not particularly ripped. He’d never had to put much work into exercise, his superior metabolism and innate superhuman strength had never made it necessary for him to work out. But all he could see now was the skinny, pale, insecure kid he’d sworn to forget about once and for all. A furious red glow was flaring up in his eyes and for a moment he dwelled on the thought of just burning this pathetic sight of himself to the ground but thought better of it in the end. He gingerly put on the casual clothes - plain black trousers and a denim shirt - instead of his filthy suit and it made his skin crawl. He’d abandoned his secret identity years ago and he hadn’t worn anything casual for ages apart from the sets of identical black t-shirts and boxer shorts he usually slept in. It weirded him out to see this man that was barely more than a shadow of what he could’ve been like if things had gone differently.

The man who emerged from your bathroom looked exactly like and nothing like Homelander at the same time. You ogled at him for a few seconds while he stared back at you with an expression that dared you to make any sort of comment.

“How are you feeling?” you asked carefully. 

He gave you a bright smile that exposed his dangerously sharp teeth and that scared the hell out of you. “Great! Let’s go have a coffee. Come on.”

He didn’t pay the gaping hole he’d blasted into your wall the least bit of attention and you wondered not for the first time if maybe, Vought was smothering the fact that America’s poster boy hero was secretly insane. You gave him a jacket and a pair of sneakers that belonged to your brother and you couldn’t stop throwing him furtive glances as you walked down the street next to each other. His hair was a shade darker as it was still damp from the shower and he looked like a perfectly normal, attractive New York citizen that blended effortlessly into his surroundings. You wondered whether he remembered that he’d threatened to crush your windpipe last night.

Passing a dollar store, Homelander casually picked up a pair of fake Ray Bans. You side-eyed him warily cause he was probably worth hundreds of millions and he’d just stolen a pair of sunglasses. “Relax,” he said with a laugh. “See all those unlicensed Homelander t-shirts? They’re cashing in big time with me. Translucent regularly throws a tantrum because of all the money slipping through our fingers because of illegal merch, that greedy motherfucker.”

You got two cappuccinos to-go from a café down the block and walked the short way to Vought tower when things went horribly wrong. A somewhat filthy looking young man casually jostled against Homelander’s shoulder in passing, swearing: “Watch where you're going, fag.” You instantly knew that this was a terrible, fatal mistake and you anxiously clutched at Homelander’s arm in the vain hope that the moment would just blow over. But it didn’t. He spun around, throwing you off effortlessly, and grabbed the guy by the throat, slamming him into the wall so hard that the plaster was flaking off. “Stop! Please!” you pled urgently, your voice rising to a cry. 

“Fuck, you’re Homelander. Sorry man, I’m sorry,” the man croaked.

“That’s right, pal,” Homelander said with this perfectly handsome smile. “You fucked up, man.”

In the blink of an eye, he lifted the man up by his throat and threw him with what seemed to be no effort at all. The body came crashing down on the roof of a car a hundred meters down the road, the wail of the car alarm drawing the attention of pretty much every passerby in the closer vicinity. People whipped out their smartphones and started closing in on you and they didn’t seem to care at all that a man had just been thrown through the air. 

“Holy shit, it’s Homelander!” a man in a suit said excitedly.

“Can I get a selfie?” several teenagers asked, shoving you aside. 

“Okay, everyone,” Homelander said in a raised voice, modestly declining the peoples’ admiration with a wave of his hand. “It’s all good. Me and my girlfriend here were just stopping a mugging. You can all get a selfie.” He turned to you, holding out his hand for you to take. “Come.” 

You stared at him with your ears ringing and he looked perfectly attractive and charismatic and you were absolutely terrified.

✴

“Madelyn, take a seat,” Stan Edgar said, pointing to the chair opposite of him. “Can I persuade you to have a drink?”

“No, thank you,” Madelyn Stillwell said with a well-behaved smile but they both knew that the reason they were having this meeting was not a pleasant one.

“Well, have you found him?” Mr Edgar asked, interlacing his fingers on the table in front of him, his whiskey untouched.

“Yes,” Madelyn replied. “He returned to the tower half an hour ago.”

Mr Edgar nodded and after a moment of silence he said with a sigh: “We can’t have our most valuable and famous hero act like the bratty, spoiled manchild that he is. You have to get him under control, Madelyn.”

“I will,” Madelyn said unflinchingly.

“You know that I have a very high opinion of you, Madelyn,” Mr Edgar said with a smile. “You wanted this task back in the day and I have the greatest respect for how you’ve handled it so far but now it’s more important than ever that you get Homelander to do what we want. Use this girl, if necessary. We can’t have him lash out like a rabid dog.”

“Yes, Mr Edgar. Thank you for your confidence.” Madelyn got up and took a deep breath as she took the elevator up to the 99th floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone 👋 Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments as always much appreciated ❤


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things start to spin out of control.

_Sixteen years earlier_

John was staring at his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator. It was the day Vought was going to present him to the world. He was twenty and it’s been almost a year since he’d left the lab for good, moving to New York where Vought could keep a close eye on him and put the final touches to the man they wanted him to be. He was tired from all the long days of training and sitting through boring lectures about American values and politics and Christian core culture. Also, as it had turned out, Vogelbaum had not taught him anything about what it meant to be a normal young adult. John had never been at a party or at the cinema, he had no idea about how the internet worked, he’d never interacted with people his age. He turned over in his mind the biography of growing up in a loving, God-fearing family that the marketing department had made up for him, anxious to remember everything correctly. 

When the elevator reached the floor where the press conference was going to be held, he took a last look at himself. They’d given him a fashionable haircut, he wasn’t as skinny and pale anymore as a year ago and the costume made him look a perfect blend of lean and muscular. He felt like a complete fraud. What if everyone saw through this scam right away? His leg was bouncing relentlessly, his heart was racing and he could feel his palms grow sweaty inside his leather gloves. 

A cluster of people buzzed around him as soon as he stepped out of the elevator and a wave of relief washed over him when he finally spotted Madelyn. 

“Are you ready?” she asked, brushing a loose strand of hair away from his forehead. 

“Don’t worry, they will love you. Come on.”

The official event went well, he modestly answered the questions they asked him and posed for press photos with Mr Edgar and Madelyn and people he had never seen before. By now, he’d learned to switch effortlessly from _John_ to _Homelander_ and he was gradually becoming aware of the effect he had on people and how to use it to his advantage. He knew people liked him because he was handsome and well-spoken and the epitome of the all-American boy scout.

“That was _perfect_!” an assistant said without looking up from her phone, dragging him away from the journalists and down a hallway. “Now we just have to make fast work of the crowd waiting outside and then it’s a wrap for today.”

“Wait, what?” John stopped in his tracks, taken aback. “What crowd?”

The woman (he didn’t remember her name) gave him a slightly irritated look. “The fans? Who’ve been waiting outside for hours? You just have to take some photos and wave at them and that’s about it.”

A queasy feeling was spreading in his stomach as they took the elevator down to the ground floor of the tower. He could already hear the commotion outside through the walls but it didn’t prepare him for the blinding flash of hundreds of phone cameras when they stepped outside. People were reaching for him with sticky hands, shouting his name and shoving phones into his face and the stench of adrenaline and sweat radiating off of the crowd was nauseating. Panic rose in him like brackish water and for a second he felt like drowning but then he just pushed off the ground and in the fraction of a second the world was shrinking away under him. 

It took Vought three hours to locate him eighty miles down the highway where he was sitting on the curb in front of a gas station, jittery and his face puffy from crying. They took him back to the tower where Madelyn was waiting for him and he followed her to her office. She let him curl up on the sofa next to her and snuggle his face against her breast. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have let them get so close to you,” she said, soothingly stroking his hair. “But the crowd loved your exit.” She laughed. “They thought it was all planned that way. Everyone’s talking about it. About you.” She gently lifted his face so that he was looking at her. “I might know something that’ll help you take your mind off things.” Her voice was soft and low and he was unable to look away from her. Ever since their first meeting he’d had the worst obsession with her and now that he lived at Vought tower he quite often found himself trailing her and watching through the walls of her office. He craved her attention like nothing else on earth and he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing her with anyone. When her hand was sliding in between his legs now it felt like some rusty, untapped mechanism was coming to life inside of him. “Have you ever been with a woman?” Madelyn murmured against his ear. He shook his head, breathing shakily, while a million unfamiliar sensations exploded within his body. “Just relax,” she said with a smile.

✴

Homelander was pacing back and forth restlessly in Madelyn’s office. He always came to her when he was upset.

“It was very reckless of you to let people see you in your secret identity,” she said, studying him with an expression of concern. “Mr Edgar is not pleased.”

“Fuck Edgar,” Homelander huffed in annoyance. “I abandoned this ‘secret identity’ bullshit years ago anyways. Since when do we care about what he thinks?” 

Madelyn sighed, stopping him by taking his hands. “He’s the man who writes our checks.”

“You know, maybe it’s time for me to move on,” he said. “My contract expires next year and maybe I should just reorient myself. Would make Edgar look really fucking stupid and crash Vought’s stock market value.”

Madelyn rested her head against his chest. “But you don't really want that, do you? The Seven are _your_ team, not Edgar’s.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Madelyn,” he said, squirming free of her. “I don’t want to present Mr Edgar’s new talking points or pretend that Deep is not a fucking joke or appear on Jimmy Fallon’s godawful show! And I swear to God, if you make me go to Believe Expo ever again!”

Madelyn gave him a look as if she was explaining a very simple thing to a child. “But Believe Expo is where your people are! Last year was a huge success. They love you there.”

“But I don’t even believe in God,” Homelander hissed.

“And you don’t have to, in private life,” Madelyn said with a shrug. “But it’s your brand. And people must believe in _that_.”

“It’s always all about the brand, huh?” he asked bitterly. “Do you ever care about _me_?”

“Of course I do!” she said. “You know I need you. But you have to play by Edgar’s rules. Please, do it for me.”

He let her hug him and gently stroke his back and he felt his fury die down a little. They stayed like this for a little while when Madelyn said: “I have to tell you something.”

Homelander perked his head up. There was something in her voice that rubbed him the wrong way.

“I’m pregnant.”

He stared at her in bewilderment, giving a curt humorless laugh. “What? But you’re almost fifty!”

Madelyn smiled but it looked like she was trying hard to remain composed. “Well… yes. But we talked about this, right? You know that I wanted a baby eventually.”

“And who’s the father?” Homelander asked in a trembling voice.

“Does that matter? He’s not important.”

“But you're still in charge of me, right? You’ll still handle my day-to-day business?”

She cupped his cheek in her palm. “Of course! I will _always_ be there for you, I promise. Oh my sweet boy, I know you’re going through a lot right now and I’m so, so sorry.”

✴

You were sitting on a bench at the banks of Hudson River, staring out over the water. It was getting cold but you couldn’t get yourself to move. You’d pondered whether you should just go to the New York Times or CNN and tell them everything you knew. That Stillwell was blackmailing you, that Vought was drugging their heroes, that supes were dangerous, that Homelander was completely unhinged. People had been trying to call you all day but you didn’t want to talk to anyone so you’d just turned off your phone. You vaguely remembered that your actual job still was to handle Homelander’s social media and you were probably supposed to address what had happened but you just couldn’t be bothered at the moment. When a shadow moved between you and the pale winter sun, you closed your eyes for a second, bracing yourself. He had to show up eventually.

“I was looking for you at the tower,” Homelander said, sitting down next to you. “I got you a coffee.” He put a to-go cup on the bench between the two of you and you looked up slowly, meeting his eyes. His pupils were normal-sized again but there were purple shadows of exhaustion under his eyes and it looked a little bit like he’d been crying. 

When you didn’t say anything he continued: “Look, nobody wanted the situation to get so out of hand.”

You laughed despite yourself, running your hands over your face. It just didn’t matter anymore. There was no way for you to get out of this mess. “Get out of hand? You _threw_ that guy! For no - fucking - reason!”

He at least had the decency to look uncomfortable but you felt like it was more because you were mad at him and not because he’d probably killed that man.

“I was a bit… out of my senses, I guess,” he said feebly. 

“No shit,” you said, staring down at your shoes. “Do you remember what you told me yesterday night?”

He shifted awkwardly. “Not really.”

“You said... that they have turned you into a monster. Who? Vought?”

He recoiled from you, thunderstruck. “Why would I say that?”

You shrugged, taking the coffee after all. “You tell me.”

He stayed silent for a moment and when he spoke his voice was wavering slightly. “You know, where I grew up… the people who raised me, the… doctors… they always kept their distance. They... were afraid of me. When I was a kid no one told me how to handle my powers. I had to teach myself, most of the time. I didn’t just get up one day and was able to fly. I had to learn how to do it. They were testing all kinds of stuff on me, you know… bad… stuff. I was subjected to endless hours of sitting in front of a projector watching stuff like the American flag or Jesus or baseball and then they questioned me about it. When I passed the test I got a reward.”

You stared at him in consternation. His eye was twitching and his jaw was clenched and you couldn’t help but wonder what Vought had done to him. You were an idiot for feeling sorry for him. He was a manipulative bastard who probably just pulled at your heartstrings to make you feel bad for being mad at him. But you were not a monster, so you just allowed yourself to feel sympathy for him for a second.

“I’m sorry,” you said, hesitantly putting a hand on his arm and giving it a slight comforting squeeze. He startled at your touch, staring at your hand in surprise for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“What do you think about coming to my place on 99th later? We could make ourselves comfortable and have some dinner. We might have stolen the sushi chef from Nobu Fifty Seven.” He gave you a gentle push with his shoulder. 

You hesitated for a moment but you just didn’t have the heart to turn him down. He looked miserable and you thought that maybe he was being sincere for once. There was some small, messed-up part of you that was still drawn to him so maybe you were just as bad as him. It was ridiculous to think that you could save this man from himself.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll come round later.”

He smiled, kissing you on the cheek and resting his head on your shoulder while you sipped your coffee, wondering whether this was ever gonna end.

✴

When Homelander entered the Seven’s conference room he didn’t expect to find anyone else there. But as it turned out, Mr Edgar was standing by the window, giving him a polite smile. “Wow, I see you’re hauling out the big guns,” Homelander said with a laugh. “You normally never stray to this floor.”

“Well, yes, that’s true. But unfortunately the circumstances require it.”

“And what circumstances are these?” Homelander asked in a bored voice.

Mr Edgar sighed. “You threw a man a hundred meters through the air in broad daylight. It caused an outcry on social media. You’re trending number one on Twitter but not in a good way.”

Homelander blinked in confusion. He had no idea what Edgar was talking about. 

“No one cared. They all just wanted fucking selfies, like always,” he said, irritated. The nerve of that guy, talking to him like that here in the stronghold of _his_ team.

“Some of them yes,” Mr Edgar said and there was an irritated edge to his voice now, too. “But while you were so caught up in strutting around and assaulting people you missed that someone was already filming when that man was jostling against you. People on social media are demanding to know whether stuff like that has happened before. Whether our heroes are a danger to the public.”

“ _What?_ ” Homelander snapped in disbelief. “I’m rescuing their worthless pathetic asses every day and they think they have any fucking right to criticize _me_?”

“Homelander, “ Mr Edgar said, walking over and stopping right in front of him. “You are not Vought. You are an asset. We pay you an outrageous amount of money every year to do the bare minimum. And while you’re busy puffing yourself up at the Golden Globes we clean up the trail of blood you’re constantly leaving. But if you’re publicly damaging Vought’s reputation then this will have consequences for you.”

Homelander could only stare at Mr Edgar at a loss for words, while white-hot anger started to boil within him. He didn’t know how to react to someone who wasn’t afraid of him. Most people would be pissing their pants out of fear but for some reason Edgar was completely calm. This could only mean that he either was completely demented or he had an ace up his sleeve that Homelander didn’t know about yet.

✴

After your encounter with Homelander you went back to the hotel you’d checked into because back at your flat there was still a gaping hole where the balcony doors used to be. You slumped down on the bed without bothering to take off your shoes and switched on your phone. Hundreds of messages flooded in in the matter of seconds - friends, work, your parents, Twitter notifications. You groaned, trying to figure out what most messages were about. Apparently a video of the whole situation had gone viral on the internet. You searched it up on YouTube, dread washing over you at the fact that you were clearly recognizable and your identity had already been made public by someone, given that everyone in the comments knew your name. From what you were able to find out in a trice, people were mostly freaking out about two things: Homelander throwing that guy, closely followed by the fact that someone had captured on video how he called you his girlfriend. You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes. This whole situation was the biggest fucking mess. Tears started to burn in your eyes when a knock on the door almost caused you a cardiac arrest. Nobody should know that you were here. You tiptoed over to the door, squinting through the spyhole, when the door hit you in the face so hard that you were flung across the room and crumpled down to the floor. A tall, black figure blocked the doorway, staring down at you mutely as he approached. Black Noir crouched down in front of you, tilting his head slightly, this unsettling emotionless mask only inches from your face. The sight of him was swimming in and out of focus in front of your eyes as his gloved hand closed around your neck, squeezing until everything went black around you.

✴

It was already past nine when Homelander felt certain that you wouldn’t show up anymore. A mixture of anger and humiliation was smoldering in his chest. How dare you stand him up after he’d tried so hard? He just didn’t know how to make you like him back the way he wanted you to because usually people were fawning on him all by themselves. He couldn’t go to Madelyn with it because he didn’t want her to know that he cared about you and he was still hurt that she was choosing a fucking accessory baby over him. 

He was shaking. Everything was tumbling down around him. Madelyn, Mr Edgar, the public, you - everyone was turning on him. He threw open the balcony doors, shooting up into the night sky and when he touched down a moment later by your flat it was obvious that you weren’t there. He searched the tower for you after that but you were nowhere to be found there either. White-hot, blinding rage was threatening to swallow him when he burst into Mr Edgar’s office. 

“Where - IS SHE?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you like where this story is going. Leave kudos or a comment if you like :)


	6. Chapter 6

“Homelander. To what do I owe the honor?” Mr Edgar said, looking up from a stack of paper on his desk and removing his glasses. His nonchalant tone made a flash of hatred surge up within Homelander and his eyes started to glow as he slowly advanced on Edgar. 

“Don’t you DARE fuck around with me!” he spat, his voice rising to a shout. “(y/n). Where is she?”

Mr Edgar slowly stood up, raising his hands in a placatory gesture. Homelander could hear the slightly quickened heartbeat of the man but Edgar wasn’t nearly as scared as it would have been appropriate to the situation. He was definitely on his guard though, all pretend-courtesy gone from his features. 

“I take it you’re talking about your social media manager?” 

Homelander didn’t reply, he just stood in the middle of the office, staring at Edgar and shaking with silent rage.

“I will be frank with you,” Mr Edgar said. “We have taken her to a secret location today. Don’t worry, she’s perfectly safe there. As long as you play along, that is. So I would recommend that you calm down so we can talk about it.”

“If you hurt her I will burn down the whole tower and everyone in it,” Homelander growled through gritted teeth. A burst of laser exploded from his eyes and struck right next to Mr Edgar, shattering the glass front behind him. “You’re a slick fucking bastard. But you’re just a human. A weak, wimpy man. There’s nothing you can set against me.”

Mr Edgar stood rigid, a sheen of sweat on his face, but his eyes stayed fixed on Homelander, unblinking. When he spoke, his voice was slightly strained: “This office is under video surveillance. If you make even one wrong move, the people watching us just now will cut your girlfriend’s throat. Are we clear?”

Homelander’s eyes turned back to their normal blue and he could feel hot tears of fury stain his cheeks. 

“She is fine, I promise. It will stay that way if you just sit down and listen,” Mr Edgar said, slowly coming round his desk. “Why don’t you take a seat?”

Homelander gave a humorless laugh that turned into a wail of frustration. His fists were clenched so tightly that the leather of his gloves was creaking and when he didn’t respond Mr Edgar continued: “In the future, things will go as follows: You will stick by Vought’s rules at all times. You will act according to your brand. This includes appearances on talk shows, official corporate events, meet and greets, Believe Expo and so on. You will have your chip re-inserted without resistance. Otherwise, the girl is dead. Do we understand each other?”

Homelander was standing dead still, his shoulders hunched slightly and his head bowed, while silent sobs of fury and distress caught in his throat.

✴

You woke up with a piercing pain in your head and your throat was so sore that every time you took a breath it felt like fire exploding in your windpipe. You sat up carefully and your surroundings slowly shifted into focus. You were lying on the sofa of what looked like an ordinary, upper class family home. Sunlight was filtering through the windows, which presented a view of a neat front lawn. You were still in yesterday’s clothes and the front of your grey hoodie was splattered with a few drops of blood, probably your own. Gingerly touching your forehead, your fingers collided with a cut from where the door had hit you square in the face. According to the position of the sun it had to be after noon. So you must have been unconscious for at least one day.

It was then that everything that had happened came back to you in a rush of pictures and emotions that threatened to make you pass out again. You pressed your hands against your ears with a whimper. The hotel. The door slamming into you. Black Noir choking the living daylight out of you.

You jumped to your feet so abruptly that everything around you started to spin. Steadying yourself against the armrest of the sofa you cast around a glance. Everything seemed so _normal_ here. But the unnatural silence made your skin crawl. _What was this place?_

You walked up to the windows, looking outside. The houses looked like a neat suburban neighbourhood. A black van was parked in the driveway.

It only now came to you that you hadn’t checked if your phone was still there and you frantically patted down your pockets but obviously they’d taken it away. You proceeded to the kitchen, where you stopped frozen in your tracks. Black Noir was sitting at the kitchen table, watching you motionlessly. Your hand instinctively clutched at your throat where his fingers had left burning bruises. He stood up, holding a smartphone out to you and you snatched it out of his hand, every inch you had to move closer to him filling you with terror. The display showed an active call, but not the name of the caller.

“Hello?” you said, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Miss (y/n),” a calm voice answered. “My name is Stan Edgar, I’m the president of Vought International.”

You didn’t reply but apparently Mr Edgar didn’t expect you to because he continued unaffectedly: “Black Noir will not lay a finger on you as long as we don’t order him to. So you have nothing to worry about at the moment. But please be aware that you are in a high security area under Vought’s control so I would strongly advise you not to waste your energy on trying to escape. We'll send some people over later to talk to you about Homelander, if you don’t mind. Have a good day.”

He hung up, leaving you completely stunned. Black Noir held his hand out again, indicating you to hand back the phone and you did so readily because you didn’t trust the promise that he wouldn’t hurt you.

✴

_Four weeks later_

This was like the _Truman Show_. Only a million times worse because there was a superpowered ninja assassin crouching somewhere on the roof at almost all times, stoically waiting if someone gave the order to obliterate you. On the upside, they had not killed you yet. Vought had sent people who’d questioned you about Homelander but you’d mostly lied about everything. In the meantime you could basically do whatever you wanted and wander free, that is until you reached the unscalable wall surrounding the area. By now, you’d figured out a couple of things. One: This whole area was under surveillance but there were some blind angles. Two: Black Noir was not always here. Apparently, even he had to sleep sometimes and he probably still had movie premieres and cocktail receptions to attend. Three: The reason you were here was because Vought was blackmailing Homelander with you. Which meant that your life depended on Homelander not losing his temper. Which was bad. _Very bad._ You also wondered what would happen if Homelander just lost interest in you and moved on. If you couldn’t be used as a leverage against him anymore, you were useless for Vought. And you were pretty sure that they wouldn’t just let you walk away then. You knew too much messed up stuff. There was only one option left: you had to break out.

Luckily, you’d worn your Doc Martens boots and dark clothes when Black Noir had abducted you, so you were decently equipped for your escape plan. You were pretty sure you’d figured out at what times Black Noir was entering and leaving the area and truthfully, this was your only shot and you didn’t have any more time to wait. You pretended to go for a walk like every evening, taking the path through the small grove that led to the security gate. Halfway down the road you cut into the underbrush. You crept as close to the wall as your cover allowed and cowered in the undergrowth, waiting for the gate to open. A floodlight on the wall blazed up, blinding you for a few seconds. You blinked against the white spots in your vision when something dropped onto you and slammed you to the ground. Black Noir was pushing down on you with his full weight, rendering you immobile, and he hit you so hard in the face that you blacked out immediately.

✴

Homelander gazed into space while he was waiting backstage for Madelyn’s speech at the annual shareholders’ meeting to end. His leg was bouncing frantically. Lately, he found it hard to block out all the stimuli his highly strung senses picked up all the time. He felt like he was slowly spiralling into madness.

“What’s up with you lately?” Maeve asked, raising an eyebrow at him. “You look like shit.”

He snapped out of his stupor, giving her an annoyed glance. “It’s just… all this shit we have to do. Waving and smiling and taking selfies like we’re trained poodles. Is that what you want to do?”

Maeve frowned. “Yeah, it sucks. But it’s always been part of the job, so why do you care now?”

“We don’t owe these people out there anything!” Homelander flared up. “Why couldn’t they get A-Train and Black Noir for tonight? We’ve already done the Late Late Show this week!”

Maeve gave a humorless laugh. “Oh come on! You know A-Train gives the most godawful speeches ever even when he has a script and I won’t have to explain to you why they didn’t book Black Noir for a presentation that involves, well… talking. He’s busy anyways with all these missions from on high and A-Train is filming this new movie, so...”

“Wait,” Homelander interrupted. “Black Noir is getting missions directly from Mr Edgar?”

Maeve looked a little confused for a second. “Yeah? Didn't you get any of that? Apparently you’ve only been physically present at our meetings lately,” she laughed.

Applause sounded from the direction of the stage and they heard Madelyn announce them over the speakers. 

“Our turn,” Maeve said, walking off. Homelander followed her, putting on his well-rehearsed stage smile but in his mind he was turning over what he’d just learned.

The next day it was sleeting and everyone was in a hurry to get out of the cold. Anika still had an hour before her shift started so she killed time warming up in a café, absentmindedly staring out of the window when someone sat down opposite her. She looked around in surprise, startling slightly at the sight of an attractive guy in a baseball cap and shades. And it almost gave her a heart attack when she realized a second later who that man was. 

“Homelander,” she breathed in a barely audible whisper.

“That’s right,” he said with a pleasant smile. “But we don't want to make a fuss, okay?”

“W-why are you…,” Anika stuttered.

He silenced her with a gesture of his hand and the smile disappeared from his face. “You work in the IT department, right? You once helped me locate Translucent when he was on a booze again, remember?”

“Um… yeah?” Anika replied cautiously.

“Well,” Homelander said, leaning forward. “You have to locate Black Noir for me.”

“I… I don’t think I’m allowed to do that without authorization.”

His hand closed around her wrist, gripping her not quite hard enough to hurt her but not letting her go either. 

“I don’t need anyone’s authorization.”

✴

Your whole body was hurting. You were sitting in the shower, still fully dressed, sobs shaking your body. Black Noir had left some time ago but it didn’t matter anymore. You were trapped and there was no way out. What had kept you sane over the last weeks had been your will to break out but now hopelessness was threatening to swallow you.

Leaning your head against the cool tiles you drifted into a sort of doze, when a noise from outside jerked you back into presence. You knew that since your failed attempt to break out you were guarded by some kind of Black Ops unit who held the line in the van parked outside while Black Noir was gone. 

Your ears were still ringing but you were almost certain that you could hear frantic screams and explosions. A wave of adrenaline shot through your body and you unlocked the bathroom door, squinting outside. A terrible stench of burnt flesh hit you in the face and it seemed like there were several fires burning downstairs. The adrenaline rush temporarily blocked out the pain and you rushed down the stairs and outside, where you almost stumbled over a man who’d been split into two halves. Gore was splattering the floor and the walls and you could make out several other bodies in the driveway. 

“(y/n)?!” a familiar voice called out to you and you spun around, finding yourself face to face with Homelander. He was drenched in blood and his eyes were glowing a faint red and your eyes darted back and forth between him and the remains of the man on the floor. 

“Are you okay?” You saw an expression of shock spread over his features at the sight of your bruised face. 

“I’m fine,” you said, even though you weren’t. 

You noticed that he was pale as a ghost, his eyes were bloodshot and he’d lost a rather extreme amount of weight since you’d last seen him. He rushed over to you and pulled you into a tight embrace and you buried your face in his chest and you cried until there were no tears left in you.

Homelander easily flew you out of the high security area and you touched down somewhere by a cabin in the woods. He set you down on the steps of the patio, sitting down next to you. 

“Let’s go away,” he said quietly. “Somewhere where it is nice. Anywhere you want. I promise I will do everything to make you happy.” He kissed you on the temple and rested his chin on your head, drawing you closer. 

“But Vought will never stop hunting you,” you replied, your voice slurred from tiredness and crying.

“If we stay here, they will never leave us be,” he said and you knew that he was right.

✴

_Two years later_

You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching John sleep. Streaks of pale morning light fell through the half drawn window shades, illuminating his face in a pattern of light and shadow. He’d been dyeing his hair dark for the last two years, but his blond roots were showing again. You ran a hand through his hair and he moaned softly, his eyelids fluttering open. He smiled drowsily, rolling over to you and snuggling his face against you. 

You were living a dream life, even though it was lonely sometimes. You had the ocean right on your doorstep and you spent most of the time down by the sea, surfing or scuba-diving or sailing and you loved it. The small town was mostly populated with surfers and rich people who had their vacation houses here and everyone lived undisturbed by themselves.

On some bad days you could still feel John disappear and Homelander gain the upper hand but you also felt like things were getting better.

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent and you wondered whether things would always stay that way.

You’d found a job where you could work from home, so while you were busy John passed the time wandering around the small town. He bought you a seashell necklace because he knew you liked cowry shells and he got himself some noodles in a paper box from the Japanese restaurant by the beach, sitting down on a low stone wall overlooking the ocean. 

“I know who you are,” a voice in his back said. “You’re Homelander.”

John spun around, looking at a man he’d never seen before.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he stood up and turned to leave but changed his mind after a few steps. 

“If you tell anyone,” he said in a low voice. “I will destroy everyone and everything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I really hope you enjoyed this story.  
> I left the ending kind of open because maybe I will have an idea for a sequel one day but for now that's it.  
> Thank you so much for reading, kudos & comments are much appreciated ❤🤗
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: kayemagistro.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is already finished but I just really like the dynamic between Homelander and the reader and kind of wanted to write more about them. So this is basically a bonus chapter 😉

_Two years earlier_ _\- New Year's Eve_

Vought’s New Year's Eve dinner at the tower was as fancy as it could possibly get. Speeches about the accomplishments during the last year were accompanied by sophisticated food and loads of champagne and sparkling wine. Your new position as Homelander's social media manager had secured you an invitation to this event even though you'd have rather spent the evening with your friends at the trivia night and over some drinks at the pub around the corner. Your attention kept wandering away from the conversation at your table and to where Homelander was sitting with Madelyn Stillwell, Mr Edgar and Queen Maeve. He'd made eye contact with you a couple of times during the evening, rolling his eyes at the endless speeches or just looking at you with an expression of such intimate fondness that heat crept up your neck. It still felt unreal that you had spent a night with him and you had to force yourself to not think about it too much right now cause the fluster must've been writ large in your face.

You couldn’t help watching him though. Madelyn Stillwell was placing a hand on Homelander’s arm as they laughed about something, huddling together in a way that seemed weirdly intimate. A small feeling of irritation churned in your chest as you watched them together. Stillwell was at least ten years older than Homelander by your estimate and you wondered whether the two of them had something going on. You couldn’t expect that you were someone special for Homelander now but it still gave you a pang to see him so close with Stillwell of all people. You engaged in some superficial conversation with the guy next to you, uttering some ‘m-hms’ and ‘yeahs’ every now and then but not really listening to what he was droning on about. You vaguely noticed that he was hitting on you but you couldn’t be bothered to respond to any of it.

What you didn’t know was that at this very moment Homelander was listening in on the guy’s flirting attempts from several tables away, jealousy smoldering in the pit of his stomach. As soon as the official part of the evening was over and everyone got up to mingle for nonchalant small-talk and cocktails, he excused himself and strolled over to your table with a pleasant smile. 

“Can I steal (y/n) away for a minute?” he asked, placing a hand on your bare shoulder. The guy next to you instantly seemed to shrink and you gratefully seized the chance to get away by taking Homelander’s arm. 

“So, are you enjoying yourself?” Placing a hand on the small of your back he gently steered you towards a less crowded area, the eyes of bystanders following your every movement.

“Yeah! Yeah, of course. It’s…,” you began, searching for the right words to not sound like a complete lowbrow.

Homelander raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small smile. “I mean, what could possibly be more entertaining than hearing about the box office result of Invisible Force 2, right? Translucent is probably celebrating by jerking off in the ladies’ room as we speak.” He gave you a deadpan look and you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was some sort of test. Were you supposed to agree or disagree? What kind of reaction was he provoking? It made your palms turn sweaty as you tried to figure out what game he was playing. “I guess it was not the worst movie I’ve ever seen,” you said, trying to wriggle out of having to answer more directly.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Homelander laughed and a small weight was lifted from your chest.  _ Dodged a bullet. _

“You’re wearing the dress I bought you,” he said in a low voice, his lips brushing against your cheek and you could hear the appreciation in his voice. This at least had been a task that had been easy to get right. It had given you a small heart attack when a courier had delivered a box to your doorstep containing a dress that was probably more expensive than everything else you owned combined. The shimmery, silver fabric clung to you like a sleek second skin and even though you were terrified of ruining the dress with every move you made, you also knew that it looked stunning and the way people were looking at you was not entirely unpleasant. You guessed that the dress made you look a little less out of place next to Homelander.

“You look beautiful,” he said, beaming down at you in what looked like genuine happiness. You returned his smile, leaning into him a little more while you studied his face. You just couldn’t figure him out. Sometimes he acted so affectionate and clingy and then in the next moment he’d say something lowkey intimidating that would scare the hell out of you.

“(y/n), Homelander, I hope I’m not interrupting?” 

You felt Homelander’s body go rigid. His muscles tensed under where your hand was touching his arm and his head snapped up, a smile spreading over his face that was just a little too bright to look genuine.

“Madelyn! Not at all.”

Dread seemed to fill every inch of your body. Until now, you’d successfully avoided being in the presence of Homelander and Madelyn Stillwell at the same time but now you’d obviously run out of luck. 

“We were hoping the two of you would clink glasses with us,” Madelyn said with a genial smile, holding two champagne flutes in her hands. “It’s almost midnight.” She ushered the two of you over to a group of people including Queen Maeve and The Deep, who gave you an appraising once-over that made your skin crawl. You couldn’t quite put your finger on to why, but the vibe between these people was seriously off. Maeve’s face was frozen into a strained smile, Homelander was staring at Madelyn while his arm clasped your waist a little too firmly, all while chatting to each other as if they were the best friends in the world. The more you glimpsed of what was going on behind Vought’s immaculate facade, the more you felt that there was something very,  _ very  _ wrong here. People around you started counting down to the new year and the strange moment was over. Everyone was wishing each other a happy new year and Madelyn Stillwell hugged her heroes in turn, whispering something into Homelander’s ear that you couldn’t hear. He kissed her on the cheek in a way so weirdly intimate that you looked away, your heart beating wildly.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Homelander said to you when your little group had finally disbanded and everyone went their way at the party. “You could stay at my place tonight.” He kissed you on the cheek, dangerously close to your mouth, and you wondered what would happen if he kissed you right in front of all of these people. 

“Whoa, what about all the people here?” you said in an urgent whisper. A frown creased his forehead and his cheeks were slightly flushed. It still amazed you that all it took to get this superhuman being acting carelessly was one glass of champagne.

“Please, stay,” he said in a quiet voice. Once again, the danger and waywardness dwindled away, leaving behind only insecurity and awkwardness.

“Okay.”

✴

Being in Homelander’s private space was as thrilling as it was unsettling. Everything in this penthouse apartment was expensive and modern and elegant but at the same time looked completely unlived-in. You couldn’t make out anything that seemed like a personal item. It was basically a hotel room. Weirdly enough, Homelander seemed as uncomfortable about you being here as you were. He lingered by the door, shifting nervously, watching you.

“The view is amazing,” you said to break the silence. When you turned around Homelander was right behind you, making your pulse jump in anticipation. He picked you up and you hooked your thighs around his hips. His breath was quick and hot against your skin as he set you down on the crisp sheets of the bed. You broke away from him long enough to pull the dress over your head. Hands twisting into the fabric of his suit you pulled him closer.

“Wait, let me do this,” he said with a soft laugh, pushing your hands away gently and unzipping his suit. He slid down onto the bed next to you, pulling you over to him. Your fingers brushed over the lean muscle of his stomach as his hand followed the curve of your hip down to your thigh, fingers pushing beneath your panties and making you tingle all over. Bodies moving against each other in unison, his eyes lit up a bright, burning red for a second and he shuddered against you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

✴

Homelander’s eyes wandered over your sleeping silhouette curled against his chest. You were almost too good to be true. He’d made you fall in love with him all by himself. And this was what being in love felt like, right? He’d only ever been in love with Madelyn, but what they had was different than what he had with you. Heat rushed to his face whenever he had to admit to himself that he thought of Madelyn more as a mother than a lover. A wave of shame washed over him and he pressed his eyes shut for a few seconds to make it go away. You were different though. You were not controlled by Vought or Madelyn or Vogelbaum. You belonged only to him. He brushed a strand of hair away from your face. If you weren’t who you pretended to be he could easily get the truth out of you. He could easily let you disappear forever. But part of him didn’t even want to know, which was very unlike him. He wanted everything to stay exactly the way it was right now. He wrapped one arm around you, pulling you closer, and buried his face into your soft hair until he finally drifted off to sleep.


End file.
